Passion's Consequences
by Marzipan77
Summary: Missing scene/tag for Enigma. Omoc isn't as aloof as we think. Maybourne is out for blood. A tiny smattering of slash - one kiss - and it's not who you think. Only Daniel could get into this predicament.


"Passion's Consequences"

by marzipan77

SG-1

GEN with the small smattering of Slash. One kiss - and it's not who you think, so there.

Warnings: Maybourne's swearing, some friendly touches.

Summary: Missing Scene/Tag for Enigma. Omoc isn't as aloof as we might think. And Maybourne is out for blood.

Written for the Daniel's Birthday Challenge. Only our favorite archaeologist/linguist/all around good guy could become the pet of two alien species.

Daniel's heart beat frantically within his chest. It was right – it was right to offer the Tollan a way to escape what Maybourne and his black-souled conspirators had in mind for them. Life imprisonment on an alien world, subjected to endless interrogations, medical experiments – he couldn't even imagine what his own government would do to them, and Daniel had a pretty good imagination.

Didn't the powers that be realize that it could just as easily be them? What if SG-1 had been trapped on another planet and rescued by strangers, taken through the 'gate, or by ship, to an alien world and told they were to remain in custody and willingly subject themselves to a lifetime of testing? Wouldn't we do everything we could to survive, to escape? To find sympathetic allies to help us? Painting the US Government with the same brush as hostile aliens bent on subjugation through force raised the fine hairs all over Daniel's body. It was too easy.

He looked down at Omoc's outstretched hand and then back to the man's challenging expression. This was the last step – the first step too far to return innocent. No, Jack was right. He couldn't be court-martialed. But disobeying the clear instructions of the man acting on behalf of the President of the United States would probably come with some fairly harsh consequences. And even if his team didn't see it, Daniel knew history. He might be considered a hero someday, when the 'gate was made public, or when and if the Tollan or the Nox provided some kind of tangible help to Earth in the form of weapons or intelligence. But now? Tonight?

Daniel reached out and took Omoc's hand. It didn't really matter. If he couldn't do what his conscience demanded, his own freedom was meaningless.

~o~

He seemed so different here, under the canopy of stars. Omoc had, in turn, frustrated, angered, confused, and infuriated Daniel since he first opened his mouth in the infirmary, but here, hidden by darkness, sitting in the dirt on the top of Cheyenne Mountain, Daniel saw beneath the thick, armored shell the Tollan had drawn around himself. Perhaps Omoc was so grieved by the destruction of Surita, their neighboring planet, that he refused to ever again interact with a 'primitive' alien race. He smiled. Who knew? Omoc had lived a lifetime before he'd been dragged to Earth through the Stargate – and Daniel should know better than to make assumptions.

Omoc's light eyes brightened and he returned Daniel's smile, almost apologizing for his words. "No. You wouldn't understand." His voice was soft, filled with amusement, but not biting or sarcastic as he dismissed Einstein's theories and Daniel's thin grasp of Earth physics.

"No, I guess not. I just hope the Nox do." He settled himself to wait, gaze drawn upward to the congregation of stars.

A few moments later a fleeting brush against his face made him blink. Warmer than a Colorado night breeze, smoother than a random drop of rain. He felt it again.

"Omoc?"

The Tollan knelt in the dirt at his side, the same small, sad smile on his lips. He leaned forward and slid the backs of his fingers down Daniel's cheek, barely making contact with the skin.

"You do your people proud in this, Daniel," his breath ghosted across the archaeologist's face.

The archaeologist shifted uneasily at the intimate contact. "Well, I believe many people here in the mountain would do the same if they had more time to think about it." He shrugged. "I tend to act first, before I think. Just ask Colonel O'Neill," he added wryly.

One finger traced lightly across his cheekbone, down along his jaw line, his throat. Daniel swallowed nervously, drawing another flash of bright amusement over Omoc's usually dour face.

"Do you believe that, with great technological advancement, with a greater understanding of the universe around us, that a people would lose its yearning for intimacy, its passion for life and the joy of sharing with another?"

Daniel tried to move beyond his disquiet over the lingering touch of Omoc's hand. Maybe, he admitted to himself. Maybe he did believe that on some level.

"You wonder that I have held my people so aloof, that I've begrudged the time Narim has spent with your Samantha Carter." Omoc sat back, allowing some distance between the two of them.

Daniel was grateful. "Um. Yes." He frowned, trying to rein in his thoughts. "I understand about your reluctance to share technology. Narim told us about Surita."

Omoc nodded. "That tragedy is never far from my thoughts. How can it be when it brought about our own destruction?" A breath of laughter warmed the night air. "Ironic."

He shifted his weight, eyes boring into Daniel's, holding him there within his gaze. "The Tollan have always been passionate – in our beliefs, in our refusals to compromise," Daniel fell still beneath the weight of his intensity, breaths shallow, hands tight against the ground, "in our affairs with others."

Passionate? Not how Daniel would have described them. Cold. Snobbish. Unfriendly, yes, but passionate?

"I see that you wonder at my words."

Daniel didn't argue, simply continued to meet Omoc's bruising gaze.

"Did you ever wonder why a people would so covet detachment, or how a species could evolve to deny all emotions of gratitude, or camaraderie, or desire?" One hand moved to rest against Daniel's cheek. "It was necessary for our survival, Daniel, that we learn to control our passionate natures, not to dismiss them, simply control - possibly these same passions that lead you to 'act first, before you think.'" Omoc's thumb traced the curve of Daniel's lip. "I want you to know, however," he whispered, "that I am … grateful."

Daniel immediately substituted the word he knew Omoc had been about to speak – they weren't really talking about gratitude, and they both knew it. It had been – he choked off the visions of red hair and glowing eyes that threatened to overwhelm him – a long time since someone had touched him like this – honestly, demanding nothing. He slowly brought up his hand to slide his fingers around Omoc's wrist, gently stilling the older man's movements. Daniel closed his eyes and let out a long, sighing breath before lowering both hands to rest against the ground. Not a rejection, he smiled into the Tollan's eyes, apologetically.

"Your … gratitude is very much appreciated, Omoc. I'll remember it – and you."

The half-smile that crooked up one side of the alien's mouth reminded Daniel of another strong leader that he knew well. "Very well," Omoc replied, disappointment and acceptance rippling across his face. "But this action of yours does tie you to the Tollan people. If your … passions … lead to difficulty for you from these men of your government -"

Daniel shook his head. "I understood the possible consequences when I did this."

"Did you?"

The bright eyes speared him again, but the moment passed and Daniel found himself watching a beam of light return from between the stars to the silver device lying in the darkness.

~o~

"Doctor Jackson, this is Colonel Maybourne. What you're doing is a court martialable offence."

Daniel raised his eyebrows and gestured towards the control room. Looked like Maybourne was strangling the microphone up there, about to have some sort of stroke. His gut twisted. Or it could be he was just looking forward to doing the same to Daniel's neck.

"I'll have you removed from this program forever if you do this!"

He winced. Yes, that was what he expected. Daniel stared at the blue puddle of the forming wormhole, taking in the subtle plays of light, the rippling surface, the static charge that burned through the air of the 'gate room and made his heart pound and his eyes widen every time he witnessed this. He stored the sights and sounds within his memory just in case this was the last time he got a chance to experience it.

A hand clasped tightly to his arm turned his head away.

"It will be all right, Daniel."

He found himself believing Omoc's quiet encouragement. A watery sound brought his eyes back to the ramp.

"Hello."

"Hello, Lya."

A few moments later, the Tollan had disappeared, Omoc dissolving before his eyes with a final word and a tightening of his grasp on Daniel's arm. He moved his fingers to the site, feeling the lingering warmth of the older man's touch. His team stood around him now, staring with him at the empty circle of ancient technology.

The sound of boots against the cement floor and then the metal of the ramp had SG-1 spinning to meet its newest threat.

"Doctor Jackson, you're under arrest. Come with me."

Maybourne's barely controlled rage turned the words into a whining growl. Four SFs, from Maybourne's own entourage, stood with him, guns raised, but Daniel noticed that only one of them was pointed at him – the other three were carefully aimed towards his teammates. Yep, Sam, Teal'c, and Jack were sure more of a threat than one unarmed archaeologist - at least Maybourne got that right.

"What the hell are you doing, Maybourne?" Jack shouted, carefully motionless in the face of the unreasoning obedience of Maybourne's men.

"Well, Colonel O'Neill, you said something about me not being able to figure out a civilian crime to charge Doctor Jackson with? How about treason, for starters?" His face was red, his neck swollen against the starched white of his uniform shirt. "I'm sure going against the order of the President of the United States might fall into that category." His small, dark eyes never left Daniel's face. "Let's go."

Daniel raised his hands and took a few steps forward. "It's okay, guys, I kinda expected this."

"You – what? You expected this?"

Jack's irate questions followed him into the arms of the waiting airmen where they tightened plastic zip cuffs around his wrists. Clutching hands turned him to face Maybourne and he threw a smile towards his teammates.

"Teal'c, don't let him do anything he'll get shot for," he said, watching the large Jaffa wedge himself between Jack and the nearest SF.

"Maybourne, I swear to God, there is no place you can hide from me!" If Jack's finger had been a gun, Maybourne would be riddled with bullets.

"Colonel Maybourne."

General Hammond's command voice undercut the scene playing out in the 'gate room and Daniel knew that all eyes had turned towards the unassuming figure. Daniel would miss him, too. Several months ago, the general could barely stand to look at him, and now, Daniel shook his head, now his trust in the somewhat 'flaky' archaeologist under his command was humbling.

Maybourne straightened his shoulders. "General. You've read my orders. You've spoken with the president. I will detain this man," he shot a feral glance over his shoulder that Daniel felt like a blow, "until I receive transport instructions for his confinement." He smiled up the ramp at the remains of SG-1. "And I'm sure you'll all be permitted to act as character witnesses at his trial."

~o~

His butt was numb. Daniel tried again to twist his arms against the metal cuffs that now trapped his wrists between his lower back and the rigid metal of the chair. Damn. The burning cramps in his shoulders were sending recon teams down his arms. He'd love to lean over and rest his forehead against the metal table. Or pace – his eyes fluttered closed at the thought – pacing would feel like heaven. But Maybourne had threaded the short chain linking his cuffs through the slats of the metal chair, which, itself, was bolted to the cement floor. Nope. No moving for him. He snorted softly. They must keep these interrogation rooms for the really tricky escape artists. Like him.

Well, he admitted, he did have friends who could walk through walls and turn themselves invisible – that was pretty cool. Unfortunately, they were all millions of miles away on another planet.

He heard the click of the electronic lock before the door slammed open to bang against the wall, but Daniel still started, his reaction sending bursts of bright, new pain through his cramped muscles. Maybourne's thin smile told him the colonel knew exactly what he was doing.

Maybourne closed the door quietly, and then pulled the other chair away from the small metal table and sank down into it with a sigh. He unbuttoned his jacket, stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle, and stuffed his hands into his pockets, smiling lazily.

"First time I've sat down all day," he quipped, resting the back of his head against the chair and closing his eyes.

Daniel blinked, frowning. "Um," he finally began when it looked like Maybourne had settled in for a nap, "Colonel? Do you … I mean, I really … aren't you going to ask me any questions?"

A tight shrug was all that answered him.

Fidgeting, Daniel felt the anxiety explode within him. "Come on, isn't this when you 'try to get me to talk?'"

Maybourne's eyes snapped open. "What, like in the movies?" He chuckled to himself, but the darkness behind his eyes dried up all the moisture from Daniel's mouth. The colonel stood, slowly, stare never leaving Daniel's face as he prowled around the table. "No, Daniel, this won't be like the movies, believe me."

It wasn't a threat Daniel heard in the mocking tone – it was more treacherous than that, more dangerous. It had teeth. He swallowed against the ball of fear that swelled in his throat.

"I have no questions for you, no good cop, bad cop routine, no plea bargains, no last-ditch appeals to the governor."

The colonel's path took him behind Daniel's chair and he struggled to not turn around, to sit there with the monster at his back, his hot, fetid breath in his hair. Hands tightening on his aching shoulders made him grit his teeth.

"It's just me, Daniel. Just me," Maybourne's body was now right up against his back, one hand splayed flat against Daniel's chest to hold him there, "waiting patiently for my orders to take you away, and either lock you up in a deep, deep hole where, eventually, everyone will forget you ever lived, or to simply," the hand against his chest rose to drape itself loosely around his throat, "execute you." The colonel drew one finger leisurely across his throat.

Hot breath puffed against his ear. "I'm determined to turn this fuckingly fucked up mission into a promotion, in spite of your best efforts, Daniel." Maybourne's face was too close and Daniel flinched away, but fingers threaded through his hair, tightening painfully, keeping him still. "I'm beginning to think that you don't like me," the man snarled against his cheek.

"No, no, nothing like that," Daniel stuttered as the colonel abruptly let go and turned to lean against the table, his right leg pressed against the arm of the chair. He lifted his chin, stubbornly. "I just like my psychopaths with a little less arrogance and a bit more intelligence-"

The backhand caught him in the mouth, lashing his teeth against his lips, his glasses flying off to land somewhere to his left. He felt the trickle of blood against his chin.

"You will stop this."

The voice seemed to come from everywhere. Maybourne spun, as if he could pin down the disembodied enemy.

"What the hell is this? Show yourself!"

Daniel felt his mouth fall open as Omoc stepped into the room from – nowhere – one finger poised over a familiar metal device attached to his sleeve. The bland, aloof demeanor was gone; the Tollan radiated outrage, eyes narrowed, lips thinned to the point of vanishing. Ignoring Daniel completely, Omoc confronted Maybourne, closing to within inches of the seething figure.

"You blame this man for something he had no power to give us or to deny us."

Maybourne opened his mouth to shout and Daniel tensed, wondering if he'd helped the Tollan escape only for Omoc to be killed now by the colonel's pet guards.

The Tollan's finger descended on a lighted button on his control device and he smiled. Maybourne grabbed at his throat, his face suffusing with blood.

"Just because we chose not to use violence against you does not mean we had no means of escape at our disposal, and you were stupid, foolish children to think otherwise."

Daniel watched as Maybourne collapsed to his knees, eyes rolling back until their whites glowed starkly against his mottled skin.

"Omoc, stop!" he hissed, blood spraying from his split lip. The alien turned surprised eyes towards him, but his finger remained pressed against the device that seemed to be crushing Maybourne's throat. "Don't kill him – please," Daniel pleaded, "don't –"

The second of hesitation seemed to last forever, but Omoc merely bent his head in acknowledgement and moved away, leaving Maybourne to draw whooping breaths back into his starved lungs, lying face first against the concrete floor. Daniel breathed with him, head hanging down to his chest, relief flooding him.

Hands sliding down his arms brought his head up and he felt the release of the biting metal from around his wrists. Omoc crouched beside him, frowning into his eyes, his hands somehow sweeping the pain from wrists, arms, and shoulders. "Thank you," Daniel whispered.

Omoc's lips twitched. "Ah, gratitude," he smiled, one palm cupping Daniel's bruised cheek. "Something we share." He stood, gripping the shaking archaeologist around the waist when he wavered.

Held tightly against the Tollan's study figure, Daniel turned to see that Maybourne was shuffling awkwardly to his feet. Before he could choke out any more threats or curses, Omoc drew Daniel one step forward, stopping when the colonel fell back against the wall, obviously fearful of a repeat performance of the Tollan weapon.

"The Tollan and the Nox are very powerful allies now," Omoc began, "something the humans of this world should consider before they threaten a being the two races hold dear." His fingers tightened against Daniel's hip. "I believe you understand that your technology, such as it is," the disdain crept back into his tone, "is no match for ours, and that we can penetrate your iris much as we did the walls and bars that attempted to imprison us."

"Yeah," Maybourne's raspy mumble admitted. "But you're interfering with-"

Omoc's voice never rose above his usual even level. "I am interfering with someone who has chosen to harm a … friend … of mine."

"Omoc," Daniel began, trying to move away from the Tollan's firm hold.

"Daniel, please," one finger raised as if admonishing a child, Omoc turned towards him, eyes bright with mischief.

A smile tugging at his lips, Daniel sighed and remained silent.

"Because of his selfless assistance to our people, we have," he hesitated, "perhaps 'tagged' is the appropriate term. We have tagged Doctor Jackson with an element that will relay his position and health to our sensors while he is on your planet. If the Tollan or the Nox find that he has been harmed or is in difficulty, we will take steps to correct this."

"You can't do that," Maybourne snarled.

"You have no idea what we can or cannot do," Omoc said honestly. "Trust me when I say that it will be in your government's best interests to keep Daniel safe." He turned his back on the seething colonel. "You may go and report this as you wish; I will speak with Daniel before I take my leave – for now."

Maybourne spluttered a few times, clearly unwilling to be bested by the alien, but he finally slid his security card through the reader and slammed the door behind him. Daniel didn't miss the fact that the door locked behind him.

"You never left, did you?"

The Tollan smiled. "No, Daniel. I wouldn't leave you to face the consequences of your passion alone." Right hand still at his waist, Omoc trailed his left forefinger over the bruise just swelling Daniel's cheek, and the jagged tear in his lower lip. "I am only sorry I waited so long to act." His gaze was as warm as his touch. "Now, come." He tugged on Daniel's hand and strode towards the wall.

The alarms were deafening when the two reached the 'gate room. Daniel knew they were still invisible – and intangible he realized with a start as an SF ran through him, his gun drawn. He looked up – Jack, Sam, and the general were in the control room with Maybourne, the colonel's arms waving wildly. Jack was wearing his 'shit eating grin' expression, obviously pleased with Maybourne's story, while Sam punched and slapped at the computers controlling the 'gate which had dialed by itself – again.

The blue explosion of the forming wormhole subsided, and Omoc drew Daniel up the ramp beside him.

Daniel stopped, tugging his hand free. "Omoc – I can't go with you."

"I know that, Daniel," the Tollan replied. His gaze roved from the armed guards at the base of the ramp, to the angry colonel in the control room and back to Daniel. "For some reason, you'd rather remain here, among these primitives."

"It's home," Daniel shrugged.

"I will leave you now," Omoc sighed, both hands reaching gently to cradle Daniel's face, "with my gratitude." He leaned forward, his lips enfolding Daniel's, moving urgently but softly, his passion controlled, restrained.

Daniel felt him pull back, pulling his breath from between his parted lips. Omoc's face was solemn, but the same mischief flickered in his eyes. "Do not lose your passion, Daniel."

"Hey, how will I know that you're really gone?" he suddenly asked.

The vanishing half-smile was his only answer as the Tollan disappeared from view. A moment later the wormhole disengaged and Daniel knew he was visible again when he turned to see the SFs' guns aimed in his direction.

At least Omoc had kept the two invisible for that kiss.

"Daniel?" Jack's voice through the 'gate room's speakers was an octave too high, holding equal parts disbelief and amusement.

Okay, maybe not.

End


End file.
